Scars never dissapear
by Katama
Summary: It's like I'm born with the biggest Scar you could carry. A visible Scar, hooked in my face, that hurts like hell. Hooked in my soul, hidden away from those who think they know me.  They'll never see what I carry with me. MelloxOC.
1. Chapter 1

Prologue

_I was alone._

_I always was alone, but… that day it was different. When you feld how it is to have someone around you, you don't want to be alone anymore. I was the same, even tough I was like seven or eight years old, I understood the meaning of the word 'alone'. _

_I walked to the man, who was looking at me. _

'_Can I stil…' I wispherd. _

'_If you want to,' was all he said, looking in my eyes._

_I never answerd his question._

_I only nudded. _

_I walked with them, that day. No one say the book I had hidden in my arms, flat as a manga. It wasn't strange for a Japanese girl to have a manga._


	2. Chapter 2

I walked trought the empty, dark house. Everyone slept at this our, I guessd – except me. I toucht my hair, so it would be in front of the scar on my cheek again. It didn't take long to find my way out – a window with a three in front of it – the only way out of the house I had found. All other doors were locked so I couldn't escape, so I just had to use the window. I took my bag, hidden in a closet no one here ever uses. I was fourteen by now, and I lived her for six or even seven years – way to long for me. I took a breath, I wasn't going to waist this chanche. Tonight was the night.

I could leave now.

I opened the window, hoping no one would wake up before I was far, far away. I jumped into the three, holding my breath and almost scared to death when my bag felt on the ground with a clear _bang_. Er was almost nothing in the bag, only some pencils, paper, a book, my diary and my -.

On that moment a saw where I was. I was outside, for the first time in seven damn years, but that wasn't the problem.

The house stood next to a highway, in the midlle of a desert. The three I escaped from was a palm three from plastic, alone in the dark world around me. I jumped out of the three, and took my bag from the ground.

I started running away from the building where I spended the part of my life I rememberd, where I woke up in the middle of the night. They told me I had to life here, for my one safety, along with the other children who wore all older then me. They dissapeard one by one, on there fifteenth birthday – which was tomorrow for me.

I didn't heard the car coming, didn't saw the light. I only feld that there was something wrong, but when I turned around to see what was wrong I almost couldn't walk. Just before the car hit me I ran away, into the desert. I fell, heard the brakes from the black car in the silence of the night. I couldn't think or move, while I fell in slow motion. I saw the stones underneath me, but couldn't turn.

The ground hitted me, with a sharp _bang_, and I felt a sharp pain racing from my head and shoulder through my whole body. I closed my eyes, scared to die on this lonely highway somewhere in a desert.

Footsteps in the sand, just behind me. _The car stopped_.

And then I didn't tought anything anymore.

I woke up in the dark, dark room. The seven years old girl who was me cried, altough I don't remember about what. My heart bounced, my blood raced throught my veins. I still felt dizzy from the thing they gave me…

Someone was sitting besides me. Someone sat there, silent. I heard the rain outside, I heart myself breathing, and felt the fear in my body. The person stood up, walked away out the small room. I screamed, but no sound came out of my mouth. It was like a nightmare, but I was sure I wasn't dreaming. I wanted to run, but I couldn't. Someone came into the room, asking if I knew where I was. I didn't answere, only shaked my head in deadly fear. This whole situation felt so wrong. I kept crying, but the men shouted at me.

'Shut up, kid! You aren't here to cry! Shut the fuck up!'

And I closed my mouth. I heard people speaking like this before, and I knew I had to listen untill I was old enough. I had to shut up, like he said.

'You learn fast, kid. Keep doing that, and you won't die. I'm your boss, and remember that, kid. You're mine.'

And I nudded, little kid as I was. Alone, but my thoughts were mine. Even if they controlled me, I wasn't their tool. I learned it with the years – there was only one rule here.

Listen to them. Listen to the people who learnd you to live.

Listen to the people who leard seven years old childs how to kill.


	3. Chapter 3

The black in front of my eyes dissapeared slowly. I couldn't see that much – it was still night – but it was different from the dark cold I felt. My head was hurting and my shoulder bleeded, but I couldn't say anything. It was like my mouth is locked, like a nightmare in which you can't move. It took a while, but then I understood where I was.

I laid in a car, with two guys in the front seats, which wore a couple of years older then me. They maybe wore sixteen or something, while was fourteen, untill the night dissapeard. When the new day came I'd be fifteen.

They wore talking about me, for sure. The one who was driving has blond hair until his shoulders, but was definitely a guy. The other one had red hair, and was smoking. I could smell it from here, but I didn't care about it. What they wore saying was much more important.

'Why did we had to take her?' the blonde guy said. 'We could have left her there.'

'You didn't see the mark on her arm, did you?' redhead. The tattoo on my arm? Everyone I knew had it. Why did they care about something?

'It was fucking dark, Matt! Why the heck would I care about her árm?'

'You should know it. The black cross, remember?'

'For the last time, I didn't look at her fucking mark! I was looking at her scar!'

'You should have. And by the way, if it was dark, how could you see her scar but not her tattoo?'

'I don't care about her fucking tattoo, don't you get it?'

'You should care.'

The blonde guy said nothing, but started driving faster. I had to bite on my teeth so I wouldn't scream, because my shoulder was bleeding as hell. My head wasn't that bad, but if it made me knock out it wasn't good. If I would have been alone, I would have screamed.

'The black cross, Mello. Really never heard 'bout it?' the redhead again. Couldn't they shut up? It was just a damn cross. Just a tattoo everyone I knew had.

'No, damnit! What's so important?'

'It's the mark of the mafia in LA, got it? Its on everything they own. Cars, houses, all their stuff…'

'and now we find a girl with that mark on her arm…' it was the first sentence I heard from the blonde guy without 'fucking' or 'damn' in it.

I sighed, and I shouldn't have done that. They both looked at me, showed me their faces. I looked back, but I couldn't hide my fear totally. The blonde one, who was called Mello or something, looked away and kept driving. The other one, redhead, kept looking at me. He didn't said something, but looked in my eyes. I kept looking in his face, to his eyes that wore hidden by a pair of goggles. _The mafia_, I tought. _Why the sign of the mafia? Why… what do this guys know about me? Why did the took me?_

Then my shoulder started, suddenly, to sting. I bit in my shirt, trying not to scream. I didn't want to look weak – that appeard to me suicide for me. All people of me told me not to be weak… told me to fight. I bit in the skin under the shirt, concentraded on the new pain in my right arm. The stinging in my left shoulder became less – and I stopped biting myself.

The redhead looked my in my eyes again, showing me a bottle with letters in a language I didn't understand. Then I got why my shoulder stinged – the guy must have put something like alcohol in the wound. I looked at him, didn't understand why he did it.

I closed my eyes, took a breath and opened my eyes again to say something like 'thank you', but the guy already turned around and watched the road again.

I took a look at my shoulder, that still needed some kind of bandages. I knew enough about first aid to see this was no small little wound, but something that needed to heal.

I needed bandages, and I wasn't going to ask for it. I looked at my clothes, maybe I could miss something… I sighed and tore a piece of my shirt, of the left sleeve – it only hurted my shoulder, I didn't need it so badly. Only Mello looked at me when he heard the sound of me torning a piece of my shirt. Again he didn't say anything, just like a minute ago.

I placed the 'bandage' on my shoulder, biting my teeth when the sleeve touched the wound. _I'm not going to cry. I can do this. I'll make it._

_Seven years old me ran trough the corridor, trying to find a way out. I ran, cried, even tough the man said I had to shut up. My tears fell lonely on the cold floor, my arm was stinging like thousands of bees had stinged me. The black tattoo on my arm hurted, stinged. I couldn't run away for the pain. I couldn't stay here, I wanted to go back to were I came from. My head bounced, my blood raced trough my veins. I had to… win. To stay alive. They could not brake me. I owned myself, the couldn't make me do such things again…_

_Seven years old me was wrong. Seven years old me couldn't run away, not 'till she had found a way out of here. Seven years old me had to survive on a place she didn't knew. Seven years old me was no longer free._

_But she was herself._

_Seven years old me lived again._

_Pain woke me up._

_I've a live behind a window_

_It's a living, breathing jail_

_And every little kid like me_

_Is a thing, a little fail._

They thought they did, but they never broke me.

_But I know there is a chanche,_

_Cause I saw the live itself_

_After sea and after hill_

_I survive, I will._

I did.

Little girl called Scar lived.


	4. Chapter 4

The light of a new sun and a new day woke me up, still in the driving car. I still didn't got why they took me, they could have left me there. Left me there to die.

Like they'd care. They tolked about me like I wasn't there, like I was nothing. I was fifteen now, but sometimes I was as lonely as that girl from seven years had been. I hadn't cried since the day they gave me the cursed tattoo on my arm, the sign everyone in the house had. I didn't know what I meant.

When I came there, there wore maybe forty children. The oldest one was twelve, and I was the youngest. I was the last one ever brought to that house. I remember the night after the fifteenth birthday of the oldest boy; the night he dissapeard. We heard him scream, in the dark night. Useless.

Two months after him the second child dissapeard. She was an tall girl with long, black hair.

She always took care of me.

I never heard her scream. The boy was de only one we heard. We couldn't help them; the doors of our rooms were locked.

I was the last one. I knew it was going to happen, they knew I knew it. I was the first one who escaped, to run away.

I started singing the song I liked the most. We had a radio over there, and every Friday night it was on. It were only songs, never news, never something from the world outside.

_As long as I'm living  
><em>_I'll be waiting  
><em>_As long as I'm breathing  
><em>_I'll be there  
><em>_Whenever you need me  
><em>_I'll be waiting  
><em>_Whenever you call me  
><em>_I'll be there_

I sang so quietly the guys in the front seats didn't heard me. The music brought me back in time, to one of the less evenings I felt happy. I closed my eyes that night, concentrating on the lyrics I could sing litterally. I remember that one of the grown ups who had to take 'care' of us turned the radio off in the middle of the song. I felt so sad them. I was twelve, maybe even younger, but that little thing dissapeard for me. The happyness I felt when I could sing along with a song, feeling normal for a moment… I missed that.

The desert around the car changed slowly in buildings, showing us we headed in the direction of a city. Before we reached the city itself, I felt my head hurting again. Like a heartbeat it bounced, reminding me of the fact I should not be here. It went black for my eyes again, and I lay down on the car seat and slept.

I woke up from people talking, about me again. They stood outside the car, infront of some building. I kept my eyes closed, pretending I was still asleep.

_I'm the one who really loves you, baby  
><em>_I've been knocking on your door…_

It was the saddness of that sentence I always loved. I sounded… painful, like I felt me all the days over there. Now I didn't feel that sadness anymore, now I was free, Altough I still don't knew what those guys were planning to do with me…

It was annoying I heard them talk, but that I couldn't hear what they exactly said; it was a mess of words, to quietly spoken so I couldn't hear them, until the one with the red hair started shouting.

'Why don't ask it herself? How should I know what she can?' he shouted. I didn't got the answer of Mello, but I heard he was angry.

'Mafia signs mostly aren't good, even if you're the boss of one. Shouldn't you know that?'

Again I couldn't hear his reply, but he walked to me. My brain was still working on the information – since when could some young guy be the boss of a proffesional gang? – but Mello didn't care about that.

'Stop pretending you're asleep. I can almost hear you thinking.' His voice was quiet, but it sounded like he shouted into my ear. I opened my eyes, looking directly into his icecold blue eyes. They stared into mine, until I _had_ to blink.

'You did heard us talk, right?' he said. I nudded, altough he didn't expected an answer. 'then you know what we want to know. Since Matt was a fool and screamd out load I'm in charge of the damn mafia, I can't let you go…'

_I closed my eyes, rembered the words of the man. 'I'm your boss. You're mine. Shut up.' They hurted, made me feel I was a thing, even thought I was a seven years old girl. My eyes were dry, my mind clear. I felt the sunshine on my skin, falling trough a window. In front of that window stood a plastic tree, and I couldn't see anything else. The tree blocked my sight._

_The lesson they gave us were hard. I was here one week, but could already copy the words they tell us everyday exactly. 'Every human being can kill. Some won't, some will. People say you shouldn't kill, but there are still places where they kill murderes.'_

_And then there was always someone who rose his hand and asked: 'aren't they doing the same thing then?'_

_Then the teacher would nod, grinning in himself. _

_But I was never the child who rose his hand._

_No one thinks of surviving  
><em>_After biting in the dust  
><em>_They guess no one is surviving  
><em>_and there's no one the will trust_

_My heart feels burning fire  
><em>_My veins are burned alive  
><em>_But I will live, I am still young  
><em>_Seven years old me, survive. _

**A/N: **so... the next chapter... I wonder if someone is really ready this whole story. If you are, please review. I always love to read the reviews, and the tell me I've to write a new chapter. I'll try to upload every day, but it is vacation overhere (Holland) and I won't be here for a couple of weeks.


	5. Chapter 5

**Mello's POV**

_Was she fooling me?_

The look on her face was empty, but as I said, I could almost hear her think. Matt looked like he liked the show, but I wanted to continue driving. The only problem – I wasn't going to show her the base. Again the idea of just leaving her here past my mind. She wouldn't survive very long with her wounds, without food or water. Bút – also that idea had a problem called Matt. He wouldn't leave her here without anything, and leaving Matt too was impossible.

Again I watched her face and the scar on her cheek, which looked like it had hurted.

Somewhere I wanted to know where her tattoo came from, the black mark she didn't care about.

No one talked in that minutes. We both observed eachother, trying to break trough the shield around us.

And she didn't give up when she was staring in her dark eyes looking like ink. Pure ink. I knew I had to blink, but forced my eyes to keep staring.

**Scars Pov**

His eyes were the same as mine. Staring. Showing no sign of any emotion. My shoulder stinged, and I wanted to grab it so bad that I almost lost our little contest. Matt was the one to interupt us, and I really couldn't say who would have won.

'Well, Mello, seems like you've found your equal,' he said, grinning.

'Just shut the fuck up, Matt,' Mello answerd with fire in his voice that scared me.

Both of them remained silence when then got into the car again. Mello searched for something I couldn't see from here, but I begged the gods to let it be anything but a weapon. This guy and a weapon would be like dynamite and matches – and I'd be the one to light the matches and kill myself with that.

I was no gun; he just trew a blindfold to me. Didn't say anything. Didn't look at me, though I got what he meant.

Several hours of darkness and several guess about Mello having blindfold with him later, we were still driving, though I feld we weren't at the highway anymore. This road wasn't very good, poorly made, probably leading to some base. I heard the guys talking, sometimes, just not loud enough to hear. I was frustrating, since they wore probably talking about me. My shoulder was annoying, but I still didn't say anything. Nothing.

I rememberd the days that laid behind me, the seconds that were all gone. I rememberd the minutes that made sure you were strong; strong enough to play the game without losing. I saw children who dissapeard even when then weren't fifteen yet, and knew they broke.

It was hard not to break; nobody had friends. 'Teachers' did everything to make sure we didn't make any friends at all. In lessons, we sat always next to someone else and the teacher chose your place. Talking? You simply couldn't. No one dared to speak to someone else then the teacher.

Sports? Outside, in the middle of the building was a field to have sports on. Every sportslesson was exhausting, enough to make you fall on your bed in your own room, with no one else.

Friday night? Listen to some music, play a game but alone, watch a movie but don't talk.

Homework? Alone, on your room.

The car suddenly stopped, from miles per hour untill nothing. No one said anything about my blindfold, but I heard the door of the car opening and felt a hand grabbing my wrist and pulled me out. I could barely take my bag with me, but dropped it without actually noticing, since someone took my blindfold of without saying anything.

I had guessed totally wrong.

We weren't in the countryside or something like that at all, but stood in a dark (_had we been driving the whole day?_) street, in front of a big, bunker-like building that looked like no one lived in there. Probably the inside would be the total opposide of that. The cold nightair waved trough my hair, and I pulled it back to hide the scar on my cheek again. It was cold; my T-shirt was way to cold for this weather.

The guys just walked to the building, but I saw Math looking back once – his eyes saying 'it'd be a way better idea if you follow us now'. I didn't dare to act against that warning and walked after them, entered the door Mello kickt open like it was nothing. I closed it when I entered, and the hallway directly became totally dark. I just walked, remembering the bag I picked up again and threw it over my shoulder.

My eyes just got used to the dark when Mello threw open another door, and showed me a room totally different from the one I expected.

It wasn't dark, but filled with people I normally would walk away from. The kinda men you expect to see in gangs, movie's, newspaper with the word 'wanted' above their heads. They reacted to my appearance like I tought they would.

'Hey, Boss, were did you got her?' one man said, and I couldn't do anything but turn around, look him straight in his eyes. He grabbed my arm, laughed, and I knew he wasn't going to let go until next morning – if it was up to him, at that moment.

The second moment he saw what he exactly grabbed – the mark at my arm. His eyes widened, showed me a emotion I couldn't place. When I turned around to follow the guys again, I saw Mello grinning like a devil, and I could actually believe he wás a devil.


	6. Chapter 6

I woke up at a bare floor, in a room without any furniture or something like that. I slept in the corner, as close to the wall as possible without watching the door, like always.

Yesterday they just threw me in here, like a murderer waiting for his death would be trown in prison. Again, when I tought that, memories got into my mind.

'_Aren't they doing the same thing, then?'_

And the teacher nudded and grinned to himself.

I wished I had some paper, a pencil or pen. Everything to write down what happened so I could clear up my mind.

_You'll never see an elephant  
><em>_Jump to the sky  
><em>_cause he knows when he does so,  
><em>_He knows he will die…  
><em>_(knows he will die, knows he will die…)_

_But I saw that elephant  
><em>_Jump to the sky  
><em>_Just to save my life  
><em>_Though he knew he would die…  
><em>_(knew he would die, knew he would die…)_

_The water underneath him  
><em>_Drove him to death  
><em>_Just after he saved me  
><em>_I was only wet  
><em>_(knew he would die, knew he would die…)_

The words passed my mind in a second, and I liked them. Someone ever told me, or a movie did, that a elephant can jump but will die when he does so. Something with the bones of his legs going trough his body. Since that moment I always wanted to write a story or song titled _An elephants jump_ and the elephanth would, ofcourse, jump to save someones live. I never could make up something, but I feld I would, someday.

At that moment someone opened the door, and I turned around, fast, to the opening of the door. Someone's shadow flew over the ground, and sooner or later I reconised him as Matt, the guy with the red hair. Actually, I only rememberd the red hair.

'Hi,' he said, sitting down against the wall and I got up too.

I didn't answer, just looked as he sighed.

'He isn't gonna let me go, right?' I asked.

'Mello? Nope. Never.' He replied, sighing again. 'what do you want the most now?'

I laughed. He probably tought I'd answer with going back to my parents, normal life, or something with a lot of money.

'A piece of paper and a pencil, I think,' I said. 'everything else isn't gonna happen.'

'I asked what you wanted, not what would happen,' he smiled. 'Why a piece of paper?'

'Just to clear up my mind. Draw something. Write the lyrics down. Maybe a thousand of stupid smilies.'

He sure didn't know what I said, since I was more talking to myself.

'How did you got that?' he asked, pointing at my face, but since my arms coverd my face he could also be aiming for my tattoo.

'What?' I asked, smiling. People always talked like this about my scar.

'You know. Your…'

Someone else interrupted him. 'He means your scar, little girl,' a men's voice said.

'I'm no little girl, my dear blonde girlie-guy,' I whisperd with the same amount of fire in my voice as he had yesterday.

'Then don't call me a fucking girl!' he screamed the last words, almost running into the room and grabbing my neck with one hand and the confidence of someone that knew with what rules the game was played.

'You started,' I tried to answer calm, icely, but the hand around my neck made my voice higher, with fear I couldn't totally hide. Being who I was didn't mean I wanted to die.

'Mello,' Matt said, calmer then he feld. 'If you wanted to kill her, you should have done it yesterday.'

One second his hand was less strong, when he tought about what Matt said and that saved me. Thanks to my training I managed to get his hand away from my neck somehow, though I had no idea how I did that – but it worked and I ran to another corner, the one left of the door.

'Ya aren't gunna escape that way, little girl,' Mello said with the ice in his voice again. He walked to me, grinning but forgetting the door.

_If there exists a god of doors, I love you, _I thought the moment I ran trough it. Mello swore words even I didn't know, though I heard quite a lot. He came after me and I decided to go to the left, going up to a stairs. Right was dark, and running into the dark wasn't a great idea.

I heard his footsteps behind me, and I thought I even heard his breath. I ran up the stairs, went to the left and then to right again. I ran another stairs, but heard him getting closer. I swore under my breath, and with the next stairs I stood on the roof, cold wind in my hair. I looked for some firestairs, but an old building like this one didn't have one.

I tried to find another way out, but the footsteps behind me came closer to me and two hands grabbed my neck again.

'Bend or brake, little girl,' he whispered.

'Non of both, I think, my dear little girlie-guy,' I aswered, and used the Taekwondo technique I learned when I was eleven.

I kicked behind me, hitted some leg and grabbed his hands as he bended instinctively. I pulled them away from me, turned around and his arms turned with me. I ended giving him another kick, and aiming for his anckle. He didn't fall as I expected, but I could see it hurted.

'Were the goddamn hell did you learned that?' he asked, the ice-voice again. Man, maybe he could do earth-voice and air-voice too?

'Taekwondo. Red belt,' I aswered grinning. 'next month I'd do my black belt exam.'

I heard some guys laugh from the door, and when I looked I saw we had some audience enjoying the show. They grinned, and Mello walked to them without saying anything. They left me there, in the cold morning air with the rising sun behind me. I sat down, wrapped my arms around my legs but didn't cry.

I wanted to have my bag so goddamn hard.

_What are ya going to do now? _The voice wisphered so softly that I wasn't sure if someone spoke.

_I've no idea at all, _I answered in my mind.

_You could kill him, _the voice said.

_How?_ I asked, under my breath even in my thoughts.

_You know. Years of training should be enough, right? _was all reply I got before I was alone again.

I sighed, walked to the room again. I looked inside, saw no one or nothing exept my bag. I grinned, opended it and got my sketchbook and pencils out. I didn't notice the eyes looking at me behind the slightly opened door, looking like pieces of ice after seeing the burning vulcano I sketched. I wanted to draw how I feld, and now I felt like the little persons running away, leaving their houses and probably pets behind, food for the fire. I tought I was a left alone pet, a dog that was used as weapon to protect the owner.

Now, that dog was gone and ran before the people.


	7. Chapter 7  years that passed by

I wrapped the blanket, that was trown into the room by some guy who directly ran away after trowing it to me, around me. I sat in front of the small window, looking up to the night sky, the stars and the bright moon. I just wished I could leave this room right now, and sleep underneath the stars. I knew I wouldn't be able to sleep tonight; there were to many toughts passing my mind.

I sat at my bed and tought. Just tought. Even when I noticed someone stole my blanket (_Matt!_) I just kept sitting. It had been months ago when I was in this kind of a mood, thinking the whole day over and over again.

That gírl.

I didn't got why I tried to kill her. My memories of that hours were vague, from me entering the room untill me getting kicked my the young almost-taekwondoka. I only rememberd one clear voice saying _She's dangerous. Kill her. She'll kill you if you won't. _

Now that voice was gone, but I still felt weird under the memories. Awkward. I didn't even remember I could have grabbed my gun and just shoot her – why didn't I?

There was only one way to find out anything about her.

I noticed the mirror images of two icy-blue eyes in the small window. They looked at me, and I knew who looked trough those eyes.

Fear shot trough my veins, together with a large shot of adrenalin. He wouldn't leave a gap at the door again. Wouldn't be surprised by my Taekwondo skills. Wouldn't be distracted by anyone.

I remained silent, without showing him that I knew he was here. I heard the door opening, and breathed in. _And what are you gunna do now, Emerald?_ Someone whisperd, quiet as the night.

I turned around, looking straight in his eyes. 'What do you want?'

The question hung in the air between us, even as he spoke. 'Knowledge…' he said.

I nudded before he could tell me what he wanted to know. It was clear this was about me, my scar and my tattoo – starting with the least scariest one.

'I only remember them like gosts,' I whisperd. 'I was six. Almost seven, a Japanese girl living on the street. Hung aroung the airport of Tokyo, were we worked for tourists. Carried luggage, brought them to hotels. That kinda stuff.

On a day there arrived a man, together with a boy and a girl slightly older then me. They, or the man, picked me from all the others. _A girl from her age having survived the wounds of such a big scar must be strong, _he must've tought.'

'So I guided them the next weeks,' she spoke, while I listened and somehow didn't wanted to hear what would come next. 'They didn't speak enough Japanese to talk with all the locals, but they spoke enough to speak to me. They asked me to bring them around the town, showed them nice places. In the following days, I grew more into them. I liked having people around, friendly people who gave me food and money to live for months, in my eyes.

And then the day they would leave.

I cried. Wanted to come along but didn't ask them.

The man asked me to come along, and I nudded. It was the worsed thing I could've done that moment. I was to young to know stuff about how weird this was, chancing nationlities, passports… next thing I remember is one of the worst memories.'

She was silent for a moment. Her eyes were shut, as if she waited for the younger her to refuse the man's offer, to stay in Japan.

It didn't happen.

'I woke up in a dark room, alone,' her voice shudderd, her eyes opened again and stared straight into mine. 'I shouted, cried, untill some man ran into the room and shouted I had to be quiet. To be silent, to listen. Then I'd surive… it rained, that day or night. I remember the sound that sounded like a heartbeat of a mother to me, the only thing that was the same as in Japan. The sound of rain.'

The tears in her voice were made of stone, the water already gone, years ago.

'So I was silent,' she said, with a voice that told me she had been grinning inside. 'but the inside me laught to the man. They could have my body, but no one could grab my soul. They noticed, sure. But as long as I listened, I'd be usefull.

The days that followed were days of training, physical exercise. I was strong enough. They gave me the tattoo, we used to call the black mark. And then the real training started.

Everyone was a loner, strong and no one ever cried, spoke to another, or broke. Who broke, was gone. We knew. I heard children crying in their pillows in the middle of the night, lonely, broken children. They were useless in the eyes of the men that trained us. I wasn't useless for them.

I fought. Fought to survive their training, the exhausting days, the pain. And then someone would turn fifteen.

Birthdays weren't celebrated, but everyone knew that boy would become fifteen somehow. He dissapeard that night. We all heard him shout.

You could say I cheated on the trainings, ectually. We even had computerhacking lessons, and every computer had internet, altough you needed a password for sites that different from the ones we could visit. Sites to chat, talk, put art or stories online were forbidden. Everything to communicate with the outside world was forbidden, locked.

I managed to hack into the system of computer nineteen.'

I grinned, she did too.

'I was on the internet every single computerlesson, and just hacked into other computers to get the answers of the questions we had to make. I chatted with people in what I tought was the real world… and formed my plan. All I wanted was to goddamn escape.'

Her voice broke at the memories, but she managed to keep the tears somewhere inside and cry without tears. The scarred girl waited, as to see my reaction, but I could do nothing else then bend my head, thinking about what see told me. A voice inside me whispered about the fact this could all be a lie; but the look on her face told me it wasn't.

She didn't said anything else. Her eyes were hidden behind her hands and eyelids, her emotions only known by the marked girl herself. Her inside seemed to be twisting, turning after telling me the memories she had been hinding all those years.

Years ago, when I was like eleven or twelf years old, I may have had put an arm around her. Said her that those years were gone, that time went by.

My years of putting arms around shoulders were also gone. What happened after my fourteenth had marked me forever.


End file.
